


jet black and cerulean sky

by valety



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anxiety, Autistic Chara, Autistic Frisk, Gen, Nonverbal Frisk, POV Second Person, Post-Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:36:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7458090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valety/pseuds/valety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chara needs to be left alone for a little while, but Asriel’s not very good at that kind of thing, so it’s Frisk’s job to distract him. It’s the opportunity they’ve been waiting for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	jet black and cerulean sky

**Author's Note:**

> I was babbling on twitter about what it would be like if my frisk and asriel interacted while chara was off doing something else, and feral brought up the possibility of parent-mandated alone time necessitating frisk keeping asriel busy, and, well, this happened 
> 
> (my fanfic twitter is [@lumabops,](https://twitter.com/lumabops) by the way. it’s locked for various reasons, but feel free to send a follow request if you’d like to see me shitposting about charasriel. odds are I’ll accept)

The last you saw of Chara, they were hiding in a nest of blankets with their earbuds in, the volume turned up so high that you could hear the glissando of whatever piece they were listening to even from across the room. They wouldn’t speak to you, but they stuck their hands out from underneath the blankets and used what little rudimentary sign language they know to ask you to go away.

Normally that would be cause for alarm, but you have a pretty good guess as to what caused their current mood. The fireworks last night had done a number on yourself as well, and you know that Chara’s far more sensitive to noise than you are. If they need some time alone with just their thoughts and the sounds they’ve chosen, then you can absolutely, positively do that for them.

Asriel doesn’t seem to agree.

“It’s not good for them to hole themselves up alone,” he says insistently when you block his path to Chara’s bedroom. You stand firm, trying to look intimidating, even though you know perfectly well that he could probably just pick you up and move you slightly to the left if he really wanted to.

 _This is different,_ you sign. _They’re not sad. They’re overstimulated. If you bother them –_

“I won’t be _bothering_ them!” Asriel interrupts, face screwing up in what you think is meant to be a glare, judging from the way he’s narrowing his eyes. It looks more like a pout. “I’m their best friend! I’ll be _helping_ them!”

He looks angry, and you begin to worry. You know that Chara should be left alone right now, but Asriel’s upset – if the only way to pacify him is to let him through, but doing so will make things worse for Chara, then what should you…?

Fortunately, you’re spared having to make a decision by the appearance of Toriel carrying a tray. “Ah,” she says with a smile. “There you two are. I am bringing Chara something to eat. Your lunch is waiting for you downstairs.”

Asriel’s face falls. He has no chance of standing up against his mother, and you and he both know it. You almost let out a cheer; Toriel, Queen of Timely and Heroic Entrances!

With a sigh, Asriel departs. You’re about to follow him, eager for your lunch, but then Toriel calls out to you.

“Frisk,” she says. “Before you go – may I speak to you a moment?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to keep things nice and quiet for Chara.

Specifically, to keep a certain panicking and noisy boy distracted.  

It won’t be an easy task. It certainly hasn’t been so far, even before it officially gained _mission_ status. But you’re not one to back down from a challenge, least of all one with the potential to be as rewarding as this one ought to be, and so you’ll tackle it with everything you’ve got. Which is a lot!

Lunch serves as a good distraction for a while; it’s hard for anybody, even Asriel, to fret about their friend’s wellbeing when they have grilled cheese and tomato soup to think about. But then lunch inevitably comes to an end and you have to think fast on ways to keep Asriel busy for the rest of the afternoon, which sets your mind to racing like Napstablook’s very fastest thundersnail. 

In the end, you settle on colouring. After all, you already know that Asriel likes to draw; you often see him watching people from a distance with a sketchbook, gnawing on the end of his pencil when not putting it to paper. You like to draw as well, and so, while Asriel is putting away the soup that had been left simmering on the stove for you, you run to your bedroom to collect your shoebox full of art supplies.

When you return, Asriel is just closing the fridge. You run up to him and bump him from behind with the shoebox to get his attention. When he turns around, you shove it into his hands and he takes it automatically, looking surprised that he does so.

You sign, _would you like to draw?_

And that is how you and a certain panicking and noisy boy end up sitting at the coffee table, a wide array of art supplies spread out before you. Yet Asriel’s mind doesn’t appear to be on drawing – although he’s holding a pencil in one hand, he’s drumming his fingers steadily against the polished wooden surface of the table with the other. His nails click as he does so, making a very satisfying sound, but his expression is still one of worry, and so you guess he’s probably doing it from nervousness rather than just for the sake of the sound.

 _What are you going to draw?_ you sign.

“Oh,” he says. “Um. I’m not sure yet.”

He looks flustered by the very question, and you feel a stab of guilt. You know that Asriel is shy, but no matter what you do, it feels like everything you say just makes things worse. If he’s not angry, he’s afraid, and it always seems to be especially bad around _you,_ and you have no idea _why._

It’s not a nice feeling, to think you make somebody this unhappy.

It’s not that he _dislikes_ you, probably – it’s just that he seems to be more comfortable with Chara, and you can’t be Chara, no matter how hard you try. Still, you can’t help but wonder what you’re doing wrong, that you can’t seem to help him calm down no matter how mild and unassuming that you make yourself. Even if he doesn’t like you, surely there must be _something_ you can do to put him at ease.

Maybe you shouldn’t care this much, but you can’t forget what he said to you that day, about you being the kind of friend he always wanted. It felt like a responsibility, a happy sort of elevation in status, and it’s something that you want to try and live up to, even if Asriel never quite seems to look at you these days. Because that’s your job, isn’t it? To be everybody’s friend?

There’s always a _secret_ to making friends with people, you’ve found. A certain phrase, a special gift, something that raises their affections high enough for them to give you a chance that they wouldn’t have before. It’d be easier if you still had Chara to whisper hints into your ear, but they get kind of weird about Asriel sometimes and you’re not sure how helpful they would be in this case - but t hat’s fine. You’re smart. Surely you can figure this puzzle out on your own.

Thinking about Chara gives you an idea, at least, even if it also makes you feel a little sad, and so you sign, _you could draw something for Chara, for when they’re feeling better._

Asriel’s eyes momentarily light up, only to immediately grow dull again. He droops. “I should be helping them feel better,” he says, the drumming of his fingers quickening, “A picture won’t be good enough. I should _be_ there _._ I’m a bad friend for just sitting here and colouring.”

 _You haven’t even coloured yet,_ you think, but that’s a pretty uncharitable thought to have, and so you brush it aside.

What are you supposed to say, though? You can’t say _you’ll only make things worse;_ that would just be rude, no matter how true it might be. Same with _there’s nothing you can do to help;_ if you say that, then Asriel will cry.

In the end, you settle on, _Chara’s tough._ _They’ll be okay._

But Asriel doesn’t look reassured – instead, his face crumples just the way you feared.

He’s silent for a moment. You remain still, bracing yourself for the worst, but last Asriel says, “I know,” and stares down at the untouched page with something like resignation.

You sign, _what’s wrong?_

“Chara’s tough,” Asriel replies, mouth curving into a hollow, crooked little grin. “I can’t actually do that much for them, can I?”

 _That’s not true,_ you begin, but he shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” Asriel says, voice still soft. He picks the crayon up again and begins to fiddle with it between his fingers, spinning it and spinning it and picking at the wrapper. “I already knew.” He gives a short little laugh, hollow like his grin, not really a laughing kind of sound at all. “I’m not good for much, you know? All I ever do is cry and get in people’s way. So it’s good that Chara’s tough. Even if they weren’t, they shouldn’t rely on somebody like me anyway. I just like pretending that they need me as much as I need them, I guess. It makes me feel less pathetic.”

With a sigh, Asriel touches his crayon to the paper and begins to draw, but it doesn’t look as though he’s drawing much of anything at all. It’s only haphazard lines of colour dragged lazily across the white; an idle thing with no heart behind it, merely a way of passing time, like his hand can think of no other way to move when holding a crayon.

Guilt burrows even deeper into your heart. It’s a sharp, insistent little thing, like a pebble in your shoe, and no matter how hard you try and ignore it, it doesn’t seem to want to dislodge itself.

But you promised your mom and Chara _and_ yourself that you would do this – that you would keep Asriel busy, and that you would specifically do so by being his friend in Chara’s stead, although you admittedly came up with that part of the plan yourself. You’re not about to give up on your chosen course of action just because of a petty little thing like _guilt._

What you need is a distraction – something shiny, bright, and new. That’s always worked in the past, whenever there was something that you didn’t want to think about. Surely the same should apply to when there’s something you don’t want _Asriel_ to think about, right? And he _is_ already colouring, after all. He hasn’t just fallen into one of his rages and begun to snap your crayons; he’s actually giving it a shot. So it’s probably a safe bet that colouring is something that he likes, right?

 _Wait here,_ you sign.

Asriel looks puzzled, but he nods. You fly to your feet and go racing up the stairs, arms spread wide like wings to help you get there faster.

You return with a basket full of nail polish, because really, what could possibly be better than colouring _yourself_ when you’re feeling grey and gloomy? 

You love nail polish. You want to own every colour there is someday, but for now, you’ll settle for whatever you can get from the dollar store when you have extra spending money. You love how it sparkles in the light when you go barefoot, but you _especially_ love how smooth your nails feel afterwards, how neat and firm and clean. Rubbing your thumb over your glossy nails is almost as soothing as playing with silk, and you’ve been trying to convince Chara to let you paint their nails for a while now, thinking they might appreciate the texture as well. But they always refuse, citing your clumsiness as their excuse – they don’t want you messing up and getting big gross splotches all over their hands, and, well, fair enough.

It makes you a little sad sometimes that Chara won’t play along with you, but you’d never once considered asking Asriel instead, no matter how many times Chara would refuse. You’re not sure why, only that you’d always felt certain he’d refuse as well.

Does that make you a bad friend?

You hope not.

It’s not like it’s Asriel’s fault; you’d just always guessed that he was happier with Chara, without you poking your nose in things, and you hadn’t wanted to interfere where you weren’t wanted. You don’t _ever_ want to do that. And besides, today’s a good opportunity to try and change things, isn’t it? To figure out why he avoids you, and then to fix it and start a proper friendship with him?

“What’s that?” Asriel asks when you set the basket down on the table with a _clunk._ The bottles clack and clatter, but you manage to hold back your wince.

 _Let’s make our fingers pretty,_ you sign.

“Huh?”

 _Nail polish. Paint for your fingers._ And you waggle them just for good measure. 

His entire face lights up; definitely a good sign.

You fall back down onto the pillow you were using as a seat and push the basket towards him with an unsaid _pick one._

Asriel combs through the bottles slowly. He examines all the greens and reds and yellows carefully, and privately, you take note of those he looked at the longest.

Finally, looking almost bashful, he pulls out a black one.  

“This one looks cool,” he mumbles. “How do I do it?”

In reply, you take the bottle from him and indicate for him to lay his hand down flat upon the table. He obediently does so and you unscrew the cap. The smell of polish fills the air and you catch Asriel crinkling his nose. There’s something funny about that; you’re not sure what, only that you giggle when you see him do it.  

“Huh?” he asks, looking alarmed. “Did I do something weird?”

But you shake your head, still smiling. You’ve already dipped the brush and can’t sign to him properly, but you do your best to mouth _it’s okay,_ and you guess that he somehow picks up on it, judging from the way he relaxes slightly afterwards.

In a way, Asriel’s claws are almost easier to paint than your own nails are. Sure, they’re shaped a little funny – long and curved, almost like little hooks at the end of his fingers – but at least you don’t have to worry about accidentally getting any polish on his fur due to the way that they jut out. Still, you try and be careful, moving your brush in nice, even strokes, doing your best to keep it as free of lumps as possible; this is a special bonding activity, after all, and it wouldn’t bode well for your budding friendship to have everything go lumpy straight off the bat.

You give a hum of pleasure when you’re done his first hand, then beckon for Asriel to give you the other, which he does after only a moment’s hesitation. You glide your brush over each claw on that one fairly easily as well. It’s actually pretty easy to paint another’s nails in general, you’re finding, and already your mind has skipped ahead to you and Asriel being nail buddies, maybe swapping colours and tips and…

And you’re getting ahead of yourself. You’d like to be a proper friend to him, of course, but maybe he doesn’t _want_ to be friends with you. He’s always seemed to like Chara better, and really, who can blame him? Chara’s funny and smart, and you’re just Frisk.

There’s something very satisfying about the stark contrast of the black nail polish against his snow-white fur. You lean forward to blow lightly over them, hoping to speed along their drying, and you think: even if he doesn’t want to be your friend, at least you still got to see what it was like to do somebody’s nails. That’s _one_ friendship-type experience you’ve never had before. Papyrus doesn’t have nails, after all, and Undyne couldn’t possibly sit still long enough to bear it.

When the nails are dry and Asriel is lifting up his paws to admire the new colour, you sign _you look very cool,_ and for the first time all day, he gives what appears to be a genuine smile.

“Do you really think so?” he asks, and you nod firmly, giving him a thumbs up as you do so. He giggles, sounding almost happy, and you can’t help but smile in return.  

Asriel admires his newly-polished nails for a moment longer, still holding them up to catch the light. But then he drops his hands, letting them fall into his lap, and he glances away, suddenly looking shy again.

“Um,” he says. “I should do yours too, right?”

And that’s how you end up with your own hand laid flat against the table, Asriel painting it with careful strokes as he bites his lip in concentration, tiny fangs poking out from beneath his upper lip.

He’s even clumsier than you are, likely due to the size and shape of his fingers, and he gets quite a lot of sky-blue polish on your skin. Fortunately, getting it onto your skin just means that you get to be even _more_ colourful, so you don’t mind, and you’re sure to tell him so after a particularly large blotch causes Asriel’s hands to shake so much he drops the brush.

He’s frowning when he’s done, but you’re smiling, spreading your fingers wide so as to admire how glossy your nails are now.

“I’m sorry,” Asriel says, not quite looking at you as he screws the cap back on. “I’m…sorry, I messed up…they’re no good, are they? I shouldn’t have tried to pay you back, I just…”

But you interrupt him by clapping your newly-prettified hands against his cheeks and squishing them together, smiling as widely as you can so as to leave no room for doubt.

“You don’t look mad,” he says, but it comes out _oo on’t ook ad._

You let go and sign, _I’m not! I really like them!_ _Thank you!_

Asriel drops his gaze to where his newly-painted nails are gripping the edge of the table, claws digging ever so slightly into the wood. He gives a nervous laugh, and you see him swallow, throat bobbing slightly.

But he says nothing else, and you feel your heart sink a little.

You’d been hoping that this would be a first step of some sort. Maybe if you showed him that you weren’t scary, then he wouldn’t be so afraid of you and you could talk to one another properly. But Asriel’s still staring at the surface of the table, expression fixed into an nervous grin, and you’re wondering now if you’ve ever actually been able to change anything at all.  

Everything that you’ve accomplished has been because of Chara, hasn’t it? And if Chara can’t help you anymore – if you’re on your own for this – then maybe it’s time for you to stop trying.

You’re not sure whether you ought to smile and pretend that everything is fine or cry.

But in the end, you’re spared that decision, because it’s Asriel who breaks the silence first.

“Um,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

An apology was just about the last thing you were expecting; you’d been too distracted by your own nagging sense of guilt to even think about his.

Confused, you sign, _for what?_

“I don’t think I…really know how to talk to you,” Asriel says, again with a nervous little laugh. “Every time we’re alone together, I just kind of…oh, I don’t know.”

You still don’t understand, and so you sign as much.

Asriel winces.

“Oh, gosh,” he says, looking even more uncomfortable than before, if such a thing is possible. “It’s just that…I keep making things awkward, don’t I? The first time we met was…bad. And stuff like _this_ keeps happening, where I get weird about something stupid, and say too much about myself, and you help me out but then I…don’t really…know what to _say_ to you afterwards. It’s just…embarrassing, you know? To always be my grossest, dumbest self around you? And then you just stand there and listen patiently until I’m done, and I wind up babbling, like now, and it’s…weird, isn’t it? So I’m just. Shutting up now.”

 _Is it something I did?_ you ask. You wonder if maybe you shouldn’t listen so carefully, if maybe you should interrupt like Chara does or try harder to look bored. But most people don’t like that kind of thing, do they?

 _“No!”_ Asriel yelps, gaze snapping upwards as he quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s…it’s not _you_ , it’s _me_ making things awkward! You’re… _nice!_ It’s kinda strange, sure, cuz like, who _does_ that, who listens to people ramble on and on like this without saying anything about themselves…?” Another chuckle. “But that’s… _my_ fault, probably, because I don’t really know what f-friends are meant to be like. You’re not doing anything odd, I think.”

 _Friends?_ you ask, because of course that word is what catches your attention most, not his pitiful self-deprecation. _You think we’re friends?_

Almost helplessly, Asriel asks, _“Aren’t_ we? I’m sorry, should I…should I not have said that? I’m sorry, I…”

 _I think we are,_ you interrupt. _But you haven’t called me that since the day we first met properly, so I wasn’t sure._

Asriel cringes. “Didn’t you think that was kinda weird of me, though?” he asks, and his hands find the thin gold chain of his locket, plucking at it nervously as he babbles. “I mean, who _says_ that to somebody when they first meet? And who wants some creepy stranger who tried to kill them calling them their best friend out of nowhere, anyway? Afterwards I was like, _ahh, why did I say that,_ because I…I know I can be weird sometimes, and that I don’t know how to talk to people properly – Chara tells me all the time, so…!”

 _It's not out of nowhere anymore,_ you sign firmly. _We’ve known each other for a while, and you painted my nails, so we’re officially friends now, no matter what happened before._

“Is that how it works?” Asriel asks with a note of curiosity that you don't think you've heard from him before. It almost makes him sound his age, not like a panicking miniature adult. The plucking stops. “Is hand painting a human friendship ritual these days?”

 _Yes,_ you sign, because you’ve decided that if a tiny lie can end this silliness, then it’ll worthwhile.

“Oh,” Asriel says, glancing back down at his jet black claws. “Well. Okay then. I mean…if we’ve already gone and _done_ it, then, well…”

He seems intrigued rather than terrified, and you suppose that’s as good a start as any other.

You sign, _there are other friendship-type things that we can do as well, you know._

When Chara finally emerges from their bedroom, looking like a particularly furious mound of walking blankets, Asriel glances up but doesn’t immediately run to them. He’s busy painting little stars on your cerulean nails for you, after all, and although he pauses to say hello and smile, he returns easily to your mild conversation about what current human video games are like, as the ones underground had all been old and out of date.

It’s the first proper conversation that you’ve had with him since you first met. It’s not about Chara and it’s not about your guilt, and you think that both of you could honestly be said to enjoy it, even if it  _is_ still a little awkward.

Things don’t change immediately, of course. Things _never_ change immediately. But the next time Chara holes themselves up in their bedroom, Asriel comes to you instead of standing outside their doorway like an abandoned puppy, and the next time you go to the dollar store to pick out some new nail polish, you go with Asriel instead of by yourself.

So it’s a start. And privately, you finally add Asriel to your ever-growing list of friends.


End file.
